


Thus Always To Tyrants

by kween_day



Category: AFTG - Fandom, All For The Game, Character Study - Fandom, Nora Sakavic - Fandom, jean - Fandom, kevin day - Fandom, neil josten - Fandom, riko moriyama - Fandom, the edgar aleen ravens
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kween_day/pseuds/kween_day
Summary: Riko Moriyama stands over Kevin day, an exy racket in hand. Let the thing you love the most destroy you brother. Riko Moriyama stands over jean Moreau, malice threaded with mirth. Riko Moriyama stands over Neil Josten, feel free to cry when it becomes too much for you. Kevin escapes with a broken hand, jean escapes with a broken soul and Neil returns with a broken promise. But haven’t you heard my darlings? Glory and gore go hand in hand.





	Thus Always To Tyrants

**Author's Note:**

> none of the characters are mine, the story, the people, the setting are all the brain storm ideas of Nora Sakavic. this is basically a character study of the hated character of All For The Game series: Riko Moriyama. there is absolutely no violence or anything explicit just one mention of violence and thats it. other than that i hope you enjoy it.

Riko Moriyama looks at the screaming crowd, A deafening sea of black and red. He remembers the inked ‘1’ on his cheekbone and flashes a smile. Hubris mixed with mirth. He twirls his exy racket around his fingers which are made hard by blisters and cuts and bruises- a brutal artwork painted by timeless practices. All eyes on me. He enters the court.

Riko Moriyama is a king. At least that’s what he tells himself. Riko Moriyama is an investment, a fact that he bitterly shoves aside. Riko Moriyama is a boy molded by hands greedy for fame and filled with ambition. Hungry for approval, hungry for appreciation, hungry fo- Again, you call that a shot? You are a disgrace to this sport, a disgrace to the family, disgrace to the- he shuts his eyes. I am number one. I am the best. I am the king. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

The ravens win, of course why wouldn’t they? Especially against a useless excuse for a team like the palmetto state foxes. It’s even landslide win; the scoreboard blazes a crushing 13-0 in bright red. He walks away ignoring the bile in the back of his throat and ignoring how this doesn’t feel like a victory. Not really.

Riko Moriyama stands over Kevin day, an exy racket in hand. Let the thing you love the most destroy you brother. Riko Moriyama stands over jean Moreau, malice threaded with mirth. Riko Moriyama stands over Neil Josten, feel free to cry when it becomes too much for you. Kevin escapes with a broken hand, jean escapes with a broken soul and Neil returns with a broken promise. But haven’t you heard my darlings? Glory and gore go hand in hand.

Riko doesn’t remember a time when he and Kevin were ever apart, well before the slam of his racket gave way to a satisfying crunch of Kevin’s arm anyways. Riko didn’t ever think that Kevin would ever have the guts to run away, didn’t think he’ll actually pick up a racket again, didn’t thi- it’s the tattoo that does it. The iconic number ‘2’ replaces by a chess piece queen. Kings and queens, queens and kings. He remembers an older raven teaching two kids, both black haired and starry eyed, rules for chess in his break. The king, the boy, who was also black haired but glassy eyed and bruised cheeks instead had said, is the most important piece on the board, but, he can only move one space in any direction. The queen on the other hand, is the most powerful piece in the game and can move any number of squares vertically, diagonally or horizontally.

Oh, and what was that bit of history Kevin was always rambling about? Cleopatra and Bloody Mary and Rani Jhansi, all queens with an iron fist. 

He’s on the court, but then again when is he not. The only difference really is the absence of jean. Outside the Plexiglas a pair of infinitely unsatisfied eyes follows his each movement like a taunting ghost with an ivory cane in hand. The sweat rolls down his forehead and into his eyes. He blinks and misses and suddenly the ghost is gone. This is not surprising after all he was never interesting enough to hold the master’s attention for too long. If only Kevin were here 

He stares at the scoreboard once again as if he could change the displayed result with sheer bit of will. This doesn’t feel real, it feels like just another nightmare, the same one that has been repeating itself for a while now: Kevin leaves, jean’s gone, his father is dead, master won’t look at him, the castle is crumbling around him in sand and smoke and he suddenly feels lethargic. He swings his racket towards Nathaniel because anger and envy has held him unwilling to let go but suddenly, there is a sharp pain in his arm and oh, this hurts. I was tall as the rafters, but that’s all in the past now, gone with the wind. 

.He sees his brother. Only he doesn’t know how much he has changed for Riko hasn’t seen him in so long. This is the son his father preferred over him. He thinks if a certain red haired and glacial eyes boy hadn’t been back from the dead would his castle, his dream of his perfect court still be alive or not. His brother, his blood, his older mirror image holds a shiny gun next to his temple. He knew this was coming. Anything was better than that disgraceful loss, anything. His brother pulls the trigger and he bits the inside of his cheek so hard that he tastes the metallic red. The trigger is released and Riko moriyama almost welcomes it like an eager relief.

Thus always to tyrants.


End file.
